


The Power of Touch

by svana_vrika



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Established Relationship, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, M/M, Memory Loss, Post-Ascension, Recovered Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-06-03 03:34:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6594952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/svana_vrika/pseuds/svana_vrika
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Too often we underestimate the power of a touch… which [has] the potential to turn a life around.</i> Leo Buscaglia</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Power of Touch

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer** This story is an original work of fan-fiction. Stargate-SG1 and its characters, props and settings are the intellectual property of MGM. I just borrowed the lot for a few words of entertainment. No copyright infringements intended, and I will make no profit from their use.
> 
> Written for the Spacemonkey Facebook ™ group ScreenCap Challenge. **Artwork can be found here:** [Click !!](http://i103.photobucket.com/albums/m128/puppyuke/Power%20of%20Touch%20screencap%20challenge_zpswakwnhln.jpg%20)

“Damn it.” Daniel glared at the box that now lay, spilled, at the foot of the stairs that led up to his apartment. Frustration and pain shone through the dispassionate look that had been his norm since he’d-- _returned_ ; an expression that even he knew was alien for him whenever he caught a glimpse of it in the mirror. Yet he couldn’t help it. There was no connection anymore. What few memories he _had_ regained of this place: of Cheyenne Mountain, of Colorado Springs, of Earth; they all felt flat and fake. As if he’d picked them up from somebody else’s journal and nothing more. 

The thought caused the fire in Daniel’s eyes to fade and dull resignation took its place. Lips pressing together, he picked himself up out of the bush into which he’d fallen when, view blinded by the wayward box, the toe of his shoe had caught an uneven edge of a sidewalk square. Pain made itself known in various areas: his ass, and Daniel knew that his arms and hands would be littered with scratches. But that was all secondary compared to the pain that shot through his right ankle and, when he realized with a step that putting any weight on it was out of the question, Daniel swore. 

Another baleful look, this one bordering on hatred, was cast at the damaged box and then, with a slow, hobbling step, Daniel resolutely turned his back to it. It was unreasonable, he knew. Not the box’s fault; he knew that, too. But what, at any other point in his life, would have been a minor- if painful- irritation had been the final straw and had become the representation of the mind-bending frustration, the wreck his life had become. Right then, he didn’t even care what was in the box, let alone if it ever got picked up. Jaw tensing in preparation for the pain, he stepped out of the mulch bed and back onto the walk, and slowly hobble-hopped his way up to the steps, and then up to the door, and then through to the elevator. 

By the time Daniel got into the car, he was exhausted, his ankle was throbbing, and he was hosting one hell of a pity party for one. It was his fault he was alone and dealing with this. The members of SG-1 had volunteered to help him and, when he’d declined that, General Hammond had offered the services of a couple of nondescript airmen for assistance- almost as if the general had known that the awkwardness of spending an extended amount of time around people he knew intimately and yet didn’t was too much for Daniel to face yet. But Daniel had declined that too; he’d wanted, almost needed to do this alone. To see if the act of unpacking what he’d been told were his things would trigger any sort of memories for him. However, knowing his current predicament was self-made only served to augment that sense of aloneness and, for the first time since he’d been brought back from Vis Uban, he found himself almost longing for company. Daniel scowled slightly as, when the elevator came to a stop, he hobbled out and then leaned heavily next to his door. Which was fortuitous, because he definitely needed help.

Setting his jaw again, Daniel pulled out his keys and then pushed himself away from the wall. Once inside, he went directly to his room and sat down on the edge of the bed; after easing off his shoe and sock, he rolled up on a hip and pulled his cell phone from his pocket. As he shifted more to the middle of the mattress his fingers dialed by rote as Daniel stretched his leg in front of him; a slight wince flickered over his features as he rubbed at the damaged joint. “Jack?” he said promptly when he heard the caller on the other end of the line pick up. “Yeah. It’s me. I tripped on the damned sidewalk carrying my last box up and- yeah, that spot exactly,” he said with a brief, if slightly pained, laugh, and then, a second or two later, “’kay. Thanks.” He hung up the phone, lightly tossed it onto the bed beside him—and then froze. He’d called Jack. Without a second thought or a pause to dig up the number, he’d called Jack. Why had he called Jack? And Jack had known precisely where on the sidewalk he’d tripped up. Why?

Daniel’s stomach did an odd, flippy _thing_ , as if he was on the brink of a discovery about which he was uncertain as to how he’d feel, but one that he knew would indelibly change life as he knew it.

Fifteen minutes later, Daniel was still pondering the quandary. Why Jack? Why not Sam, who he’d felt such a connection with that he’d thought they’d been more than just friends? Or the general’s line; as his direct report, even that would have been more logical. Or, why not the doctor who had been so kind and who had looked so sad when he’d stuck with protocol and had continued to call her Dr. Fraiser, even after having been invited to use her given name? 

“Daniel?” 

Daniel’s head snapped up, eyes wide in surprise, and then they went even wider when he saw Jack in his doorway. Jack grinned and Daniel’s brow furrowed; there was something more than amusement in Jack’s gaze—or so he thought, because now, it was gone. 

“Sorry. I knocked but you didn’t answer, so I just came in. Good thinking on not locking the door behind you, Danny. Daniel?” 

Daniel blinked and looked up at the second call, the image of a panicked Jack pulling him into his arms on the balcony fading, but into a file of sorts versus back into the dark tangle that had been residing in the back of his mind as of late. “Yeah. Sorry.” 

“It’s alright.” Jack stepped into the room, advanced toward the bed. “Let me take a look at that ankle, eh?” 

Daniel nodded, only then realizing that his hand was still loosely grasped around it. He shifted it away as Jack settled on the edge of the bed, eyes falling closed and jaw tensing as calloused fingers gently palpated the joint and explored the flesh around. “You okay?” Daniel nodded, not trusting his voice, not certain as to what was causing his reaction more; the pain was undeniable but Jack’s touch made him ache even more, clinical as it was. 

“Why did I call you?” 

“What?” 

Daniel’s eyes opened as Jack’s touch dropped away and he wished he would have just stayed quiet. “Why did I call you?” he asked as he met the warm brown, his own eyes a mess of desperate confusion; Daniel could feel it. “Why you over anyone else?” He watched as Jack’s eyes shuttered, Daniel _really_ wishing then that he would never have asked, and even more so when Jack actually turned his head away. 

“C’mon.” Jack stood. “Let’s get you to-“ 

“Jack!” 

“Damn it, Daniel, I can’t! I can’t,” he said more evenly when, after whirling around, he saw the shock that Daniel knew painted his face. A slight smile, one that came nowhere near Jack’s eyes. “Even if Fraiser and everything I’ve read up on didn’t say to let you find stuff out on your own I couldn’t tell you. You’ve always been the hour-“ Daniel watched as Jack’s brow furrowed some. “The hier… oh, the do-it- yourself kinda guy and too damned stubborn to listen to three-fourths of what I say, let alone believe it, anyway.” 

"Heuristic," Daniel said out of rote and then his brow quirked and he looked up at Jack. “You’ve been studying?” 

“Shut up and give me your arm so we can get you up and to the doc,” Jack groused and Daniel found himself grinning as he did as he’d been told. Jack really was too easy sometimes, he thought fondly as he leaned into the other man, and then his breath caught. It was all so natural; the banter, his thoughts, how he fit against Jack, knew right where to put his arm and bear his weight to make it easiest for him. They’d done this before; he knew that with no uncertainty and, as he felt the movement of Jack’s shoulders beneath his arm, the familiar pressure of Jack’s hand at his waist, the brushing rub of Jack’s hip against his own, other images flashed behind his eyes: Jack hovering over him, pushing into him, eyes near black with desire; Daniel clawing at him, clinging to him as he called for him and came; tangled sheets and entwined bodies damp with sweat and spend as they lay there afterward. Daniel’s world tipped on its axis and he fought the urge to swoon, but Jack must have sensed it for, the next thing Daniel knew, he was on the bed again. “Daniel?”

“It’s okay.” Daniel swallowed hard and opened his eyes; Jack’s were soft with concern as he crouched before him, hands a steadying presence on either of Daniel’s biceps. Daniel smiled and raised a hand and he made note of the question that flitted through Jack’s eyes as it came to lightly rest against his cheek. “It’s okay,” he said again, in answer this time, and the way comprehension dawned over Jack’s features brought to mind the first sunrise they’d shared in Minnesota. Jack’s deck, Daniel sandwiched between his thighs and leaning back into his chest, the two of them sharing coffee, blankets and one of Jack’s oversized Adirondack loungers. Daniel’s fingers traced a cheekbone and then around and down to feel the evening stubble that coated Jack’s jaw and chin; familiarity and remembrance filled the vibrant blue and then love ebbed in to bring light and life to Daniel’s eyes again. 

“Daniel,” Jack breathed in wonderment and Daniel watched as he pushed himself up, Jack turning to settle on the mattress in a movement that was endearing in its clumsiness, Jack was that eager to be beside him, to touch his face in turn, to bring their lips together. 

As they kissed, Daniel’s mind was flooded with countless others and, when they parted, he could barely breathe for how the sweet, sensual memories had augmented their current embrace. “Do we have to go?” he asked in a murmur after turning to nuzzle deep into the crook of Jack’s neck and, though he already knew the answer, his lips turned downward into a pout against Jack’s deliciously familiar flesh when, after a shuddering breath, Jack nodded. 

“Yeah.” Daniel sighed as Jack’s hands once again found his biceps, this time to put some space between them. “But the sooner we go—“ Jack trailed off and gave Daniel a rakish grin that jolted through him from head to toe; Daniel nodded and, after giving Jack a short, hard kiss, let Jack help him to his feet again. 

As they slowly moved through the rooms and to the door, Daniel realized something. It was no longer just _his apartment_. It was home again. Because Jack was there, and Daniel remembered, and when he saw the box in the foyer where Jack had left it Daniel smiled instead of glared. He had no clue, really, what the hodgepodge contained; stuff from the ubiquitous junk drawer, if he had to hazard a guess. Things that easily could have been replaced. Sweet irony when he considered that nearly losing them on the pavement had returned to him the one thing he couldn’t. 

“Daniel?” 

“I’m good, Jack,” Daniel reassured with a smile. Jack nodded and opened the door and Daniel’s smile brightened. Once they were back, with Jack’s help, he could finally finish unpacking. That last box, of course, but mentally as well—those last memories that he now knew only Jack could help him put into place.


End file.
